My Nine Lives: A Memoir
by booklvr90
Summary: The Lives and Times of Buttercup, an Extraordinary Feline.
1. Chapter 1

**Uh, this is a fanfiction, which means that I am a fan writing a fiction based on an already published work, namely, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I never intended to write another fanfiction, but my love for Buttercup demanded recompense. You shall soon understand why she won my heart. Feel free to judge. I'm not even a cat person. I usually prefer dogs. I also appreciate reviews, that way I know that the story is being read.**

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><p>I was born into the lap of Luxury. Needless to say, she freaked out. Her screams were the first sounds to welcome me into this strange, big, new world.<p>

As I gazed around for the first time, blinking to clear my vision, my mother's rough tongue reached me, and she began cleaning my small body. Soon, my brothers and sisters joined me, and we soon discovered the importance of sibling rivalry, as we fought each other to fill our stomachs as quickly as possible.

My mother's eyes shone with pride as she watched us romp around the chair, so suddenly vacated by Luxury. In retrospect, I wonder if my mother had done it on purpose. She always had a unique sense of humor, and I imagine that depositing her babies right on the lap of that sniveling, fat lump of a child had brought along no small measure of satisfaction.

Those first few weeks were happy times. My siblings and I had free range of the vast house and got into everything within reach. We even played with Luxury. Well, 'teased' would probably be a better word. We stole ribbons, hid pearls, and even delivered presents of rats to her nightstand. The latter won us banishment from her suite of rooms. The moment we were weaned from our mother, Luxury was demanding that her mother fulfill her promise to get rid of us.

My tail seemed to cause a great deal of concern to Luxury's mother. I couldn't understand why. I thought my tail looked splendid. I finally got around to asking my mother about it.

"Oh, she's afraid that you kits aren't purebreds," she explained as she led us through the dark alley to meet our dad by the garbage heap.

"You're sure they're mine?" he purred slyly as he touched each of our noses in greeting. Mother pretended to gag.

"You really think I'd let that pretentious prick touch me?" she acted hurt. Now we were the ones gagging.

Apparently, the Powers-that-be decided that arguing about our pedigree was a waste of precious time, as we continued to get bigger. I watched as my brothers and sisters were taken away one by one.

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><p>It really didn't bother me, being the last one in the house. Mother and I enjoyed each other's company and often took clandestine trips to visit my dad. Occasionally, my dad would take me out and about town. He showed me all there was to see in District 1. We peeked through windows, watching jewelers on their high stools peering at priceless jewels through magnifying glasses or setting stones into watches, rings, hair accessories, and so much more. We saw clothing designers sifting through piles of rich fabrics and rushing back to their desks to sketch out their sudden inspirations. We padded softly through the vast factories, as men, women, and children alike put together handbags and shoes on the assembly lines. My dad even snuck us into one of the after-school training camps, where we observed children practicing with swords and maces. Learning hand-to-hand combat, wrestling, and spear throwing. I thought my dad knew everything in the world, but he swore that he would never understand how parents could send their children off to fight each other like that. He says that he has only ever seen humans do it, so it must be one of those humane things people talk about.<p>

One day I came home from an outing to find the house in an uproar. I sought out my mother for an explanation.

"Where were you?" she hissed. Not waiting for my response, she continued. "We're about to leave for the Capitol." We piled into the car that was to take us to the train station. Luxury threw quite the tantrum when she discovered that I had been found and was coming along. From that moment, I determined to make every moment on the train a living hell for her.

I was only an hour into my fiendish plan when the Peace-minions cornered me on Luxury's cosmetic table. I glared at them fiercely, daring them to come closer. I saw the movement in my adversary's eye and was able to anticipate the attack. I leapt out of the way in the nick of time. I took off across the counter, sending well-aimed powder pots flying into the faces of my foes. I grinned in delight as their curses and coughing reached my ears. Glancing around quickly, I determined my next course of action. I fixed my eyes on the ledge above me. I've jumped higher distances before, so I figured that I could easily take it. I took the leap.

Ahhh! My tail swung and hit something as I took off, interrupting my balance. I failed to catch onto the ledge and plummeted back down, landing head first into the garbage pail. I have never been so ashamed in my life. The Peace-minions carried me triumphantly to another train car and tossed me in. Fortunately, I quickly recovered my dignity and got up to explore my new environment. This car was fairly empty, so my discoveries were few and inconsequential. I curled up for a nap.

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><p>When I woke up, the train had stopped moving. I got up and looked around. No one was to be seen. The door, however, was open, so I hopped out of the train car and into the bright sunlight. The sun was very warm, but a cool breeze kept the air moving and the temperature comfortable. I took in my surroundings. The place looked nice enough. Cozy, wooden, two-story houses stood in rows. Thick storm shutters were thrown back and all the windows open to the breeze.<p>

I snapped myself back to the task at hand. Finding my mother. After determining that my mother wasn't in sight, I decided to get back on the train. I turned around just in time to see the doors close and to hear the ominous whoosh of the train starting up again. I began to panic. My heart started thumping out of my chest. My mother was leaving me behind. I ran alongside the train to get a good start and leapt onto the step below the door. My paws skid across the surface, but I managed to catch a hold with my foreclaws. I held on fiercely for some time, but eventually the speed of the train was too much, and I lost my grip.

I fell backward.

I hit something hard.

I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to see another set of eyes gazing back at me. I felt myself being lifted into the air by some rough, calloused hands. I stared curiously into the weather beaten face.

The man's eyes were soft and green with numerous wrinkles radiating from the corners. No one had ever held me like this before. I didn't like the feeling. I felt vulnerable. I shivered involuntarily. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and tucked me inside, misinterpreting my shivers. I stiffened at the contact, but then I felt his heart beat. It was loud, very loud. And slow. Much slower than my mother's heart beat. It was oddly comforting.

Thud. Thud.

I focused on the sound and the slight vibration it made with each beat. His chest rose and fell with each breath.

I relaxed.

I couldn't help it.

Soon, I was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**I apologize for my interpretation of District 4, but I've never been to a Southern coast (**_**in North America**_**). Just because this is a new chapter doesn't mean that I think that **_**The Hunger Games**_** is now mine. The same disclaimer applies.**

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><p>"Is this heaven?" I thought groggily as the strong scent of fish wafted through the open door on the breeze. I carefully pried my eyes open to view my surroundings. I was lying in a small wooden box lined with a soft cotton shirt. I untangled myself and stretched my legs before climbing out.<p>

The room I was in was small and dark. Piles of rope lay everywhere, and I saw barrels of all shapes and sizes. I was drawn particularly to an oddly shaped contraption. It was made out of wood and wire. Curious, I put my paw through the opening.

The next moment I realized my mistake. My foot slipped through the holes in the netting, and I was thoroughly and hopelessly stuck. My instincts warned me not to struggle and entangle myself even more. I'm not proud of my moment of weakness, but I knew that I needed help and cried out loudly and pitifully.

It was only a matter of minutes before two young children appeared in open doorway. I let out another wail to make them aware of my plight.

"You're right, Nat," the little girl exclaimed. She rushed over to me, pulling the boy along by the hand. "The kitten got himself stuck in the lobster trap! Silly thing." She gently loosened my legs from the netting and pulled me out.

They leaned in, and I stared into their eyes. They both had green eyes. But something was different between them. The girl's were bright and clear, exact replicas of the man who picked me up yesterday. The boy's eyes, on the other hand, were pale and cloudy.

"Here," the girl spoke to the boy, "Feel how soft he is." She placed me gently into his cupped hands. A smile spread across his face.

"He's beautiful."

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><p>I <em>was<em> in heaven, I finally decided. But I was also very much alive. Nat and Alee quickly became my best friends. They never did anything without me. We explored the docks, hopping from boat to boat. We ran down along the beach. Alee would collect driftwood or dig for clams. Nat dug his feet into the warm sand and would untangle and repair broken nets. We often played tug-of-war with a short piece of worn rope.

When the children took me to town, I discovered that they also have Peace-minions. These ones, however, were not so easily deterred by my threats. So, I picked up a new hobby, courtesy of the local dogs. Not that I hang out with dogs. I think that they're idiots. But I got a lot of joy out of relieving myself on the shoes of those Peace-minions. Alee always made sure to act horrified and scold me after every 'incident,' but once we were out of sight, they would laugh uncontrollably.

Every once in a while, Latham, their father, would take us out on his boat. Those were my favorite days. I could sit on the deck for hours watching the water sloshing against the sides of the boat and the sun glistening across the water, making it sparkle like the diamond necklaces I had seen at the jewelers' back in District 1.

We watched each day end together, as the clouds turned pink and purple, slowly spreading color across the sky until it was ablaze in various shades of red or orange. I never tired of it. Every evening the sky became the canvas for a new and original painting.

But life was not all sunsets and fish heads. Worry lined Latham's face and slowed his gait. Every night when he came home from the sea, he held his children a little bit longer, as if afraid that they might disappear from his grasp.

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><p>One day, things changed. The sun went down, and Latham did not return home. Nat and Alee did not go out that day. They sat together on the bed, holding each other, tears streaming down their faces. A neighbor lady came over to check on them and fixed them some food. I worried about them. They didn't touch any of the food for two whole days.<p>

Eventually, the tears dried up, and they managed to eat again.

The next day, Latham came home.

He apologized for leaving them, and they quickly forgave him. I refused to forgive him. But then, he never asked me to.

A few days later, someone knocked on the door. I was surprised. No one ever came to visit. The women had stopped bringing meals over, since Latham returned. He opened the door to find a man standing there.

Without warning, his fist met the stranger's face with a sickening crunch. I was startled. I had never seen him lash out in anger before, and the man hadn't even said anything to incite it.

The stranger stood there unmoving, completely unfazed by the attack and the blood now trickling from the gash on his temple. I stared curiously at the man. The expression on his face spoke volumes of unspoken sorrow as the sun glinted off of his bronze hair.

Latham broke down, his body wracked with silent sobs. "Quay," he choked out. The stranger grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Latham," he spoke softly and earnestly. "Quay was a good man." I really had to strain to hear his next words. "Now what are you going to do about it?"

From that point, Latham had a new life about him. He did everything he did before, but with an air of determination about him. He still didn't smile or laugh, but he did everything he could to make Nat and Alee happy.

He took longer fishing trips than before, and whenever he knew that he wouldn't be back by evening, he brought us along. Sometimes we were out on the boat for days. We met up with other fishing boats and took stops at villages along the coast. I loved every minute of it.

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><p>The storm came without warning.<p>

The day had been the calmest I had ever seen, but over the course of a minute, a huge gale whipped up the sea. The water that had been so mesmerizing before turned into a wild creature. The white waves slammed against the boat, and the deck rolled from side to side. Latham hurried the children into the shelter of the cabin to wait out the storm.

I couldn't move.

Terror froze me to the deck.

The next wave swept me into the cold, dark arms of the sea.

I gasped at the freezing temperature, swallowing the saltwater. My legs thrashed frantically about, trying to latch onto something. The last thing I remember thinking before the darkness took me over, was that I no longer liked the sea.

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><p><strong>This chapter turned out quite a bit different than I expected, so please let me know what you think. <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I love this chapter. Probably because I love nerds. Anyway, when I become Suzanne Collins, I'll let you know.**

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><p>I couldn't move. My tiny body was shaking so hard I couldn't lift myself up off the ground. It wasn't long before I gave up trying, only to be spurred on again by the waves lapping up against me as the tide began to rise. I finally managed to secure my footing and stumbled away from freezing water.<p>

I don't know how long I wandered aimlessly about. I remember being unable to think clearly and not knowing what direction I was heading, if I was even going a certain direction. If you brought me back to the area I trudged through, I honestly would have no idea if I had been there before.

I was still shivering violently and was soon overcome with coughing fits. But I still continued on. I was afraid that if I stopped, I would never be able to get back up. My paws were sore and my muscles weak from both the shivering and the walking.

Sometime during the night, I managed to catch a glimpse of a cluster of stars low on the horizon. Of course, they were lights from the city, but my feverish mind was unable to identify them. I pointed myself in their direction and pushed forward. The sky was just starting to shift from black to blue when my legs gave out, and I sunk to the ground unconscious.

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><p>It was the birds that woke me up. I had to squint to see anything, since the sun was so bright. Tall grey buildings stretched up into the blue cloudless sky. I tried to get to my feet, but the smallest movement made me cry out in pain. I let myself rest for a few more minutes before trying again. No success.<p>

I stared helplessly up at the sky. The birds soared overhead, mocking me with their freedom. Was I going to die here on this little patch of grass? Were the birds going to pick apart my body when I die? I started panicking. I didn't want to die. Not here, not now. I was still only a kitten. Where was the fairness in that? I closed my eyes to shut out the circling birds and gave myself over to my own misery.

"Hello there." I looked to see a dark haired young man leaning over me. I opened my mouth to greet him, but all that came out was a mournful whimper. His eyes narrowed in concern.

He left momentarily only to bring back the largest book I'd ever seen. He slid me carefully onto the smooth surface and wrapped his jacket around both the book and me. He stood up slowly, taking care not to jostle me too much, and headed to the vast, sprawling building nearby.

I had never in my short life seen so many Peace-minions. The halls were swarming with them.

"Aris Larken?" One of the Peace-minions stopped us and was now examining my rescuer's identification card. "I'm sorry, but you're not cleared for this wing." He pushed us aside.

"Look," Aris sighed removing the jacket covering me, "it's just a kitten. He's probably injured. What harm can he do?"

The Peace-minion finally let us pass, but not until he had recruited another one to accompany us.

"Great Scott, Larken," a man wearing strange glasses stepped out into the hall as we were passing. "Did you have a falling out with your mistress?"

"Missed you too, Hector. Where's Lupin?" the man pointed down the hall.

"Same as always."

"Long time, no see." The young lady in the lab coat greeted him, as we entered the room. "Decide to come back to us?" Aris groaned.

"Can't I see my old friends without getting all this flack about choosing physics over bio-medical technology?" She looked at him quizzically. "I ran into Hector in the hall." He explained. She just laughed.

"You think _I_ don't get flack for being friends with an astrophysicist?" she retorted. "With that brain of yours, you could have done anything. I'll never understand why you would rather study weather patterns."

"I have my reasons." He said it so soft and low that at first I wasn't sure he had said anything. "I found this kitten and was wondering if you could check him out for me."

She picked the book and me up and slid me under what looked like a huge camera.

"No broken bones," she announced after a few minutes. "He does have fluid in both his lungs, though, so you should give him some antibiotics."

"But I can't aff—"

"Shut up," she said, pressing a small bottle into his hands. "Three drops a day for a week. I owe you for the daily weather forecasts anyway."

"That's not what astrophys—" his protests were cut off by her kiss. He immediately turned bright red. "I-I," he faltered.

"You're so hot, when you're flustered," she teased. "I think this little guy will be doing better soon. Make sure he gets plenty of rest and food. Just take it slowly at first."

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><p>I did recover quickly. My strength returned, my muscles stopped aching, and my coughing fits finally ceased. Aris took good care of me while I was sick, so I returned the favor by keeping him well stocked with dead mice.<p>

He made a bed for me in the corner of his apartment with of an old blanket and a pile of books. I use the term "apartment" loosely, since it was hardly bigger than his office at the university with one room and a toilet. Occasionally, Lupin would stop by, and they would sit on piles of books, sipping tea, while she berated him about his poor eating habits.

Every day Aris and I rode his bicycle to the university. Sometimes I would sit quietly on his desk watching him pore over his books, photographs, and films and scribble in his notebooks. Other days I would wander the halls poking my head into lecture halls.

The Peace-minions got used to seeing me around and would often stop to greet and pet me. Aris took advantage of my people skills to distract the Peace-minions, while he met with his professors about his research study. It made me feel dirty, hanging around them, pretending to like the attention, but Aris assured me that it was for a good cause.

One day, he even attached a nearly microscopic video camera and microphone to my collar and sent me into the head Peace-minion's office. Aris was thrilled with the results and started calling me his "Little Mockingjay."

I thrived on my new life as a spy. Many more missions followed the first, and I began writing novels in my head of The Mockingjay. Some of my favorite plot lines were: "The Mockingjay Unleashed", "The Mockingjay and the Midget Minion Menace", "The Mockingjay: A New Hope", and "The Mockingjay On Fire"_._ The latter involved me blowing up the entire Capitol with my hand-made explosives. All of them involved Aris and Lupin getting married. Yes, I'll admit it. I am a hopeless romantic.

I loved going out with Aris and his professors to set off rockets and weather balloons. The rockets made the Peace-minions suspicious, but when they demanded an explanation of their purpose in his research, Aris started rattling off numbers, formulas, and words that exist only in the language of physics. Eventually, they stopped interrogating him, because it only made them look stupid.

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><p>During one of my make-believe missions, I was snooping around the halls playing the Mockingjay theme song in my head when I ran into Professor Brane, one of the Mockingjay's conspirators. I rubbed up against his leg and purred the pre-determined password.<p>

"Why hello, there." He crouched down and gave my ears a good rub. Then, I felt him slip something under my collar. No way! A real secret message! This called for some special evasive action. I took to the air ducts.

Being the Mockingjay, I had previously mapped out the entire air duct system in the building, so I quickly and surely made my way to Aris' office.

Landing on his head, was probably not the most tactful way of waking him, but it accomplished its purpose. Aris smiled when he read the note.

"I guess we're going home early, bud." Then he burned the message.

But we didn't go home. We pedaled past office and apartment buildings, laboratories, factories, and more schools and universities until we reached the open plain on the opposite side of the city.

Aris removed my collar and clipped a tiny camera to my ear.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" He asked as he inflated a weather balloon. My heart thrilled in anticipation. "We just have to test the range and quality of this micro-technology."

He placed me in a box with a square of blanket and some food. "Don't eat it all right away. It should last for a few days before you come back down." He gave me one last pat. "I'll miss you, my little Mockingjay. Thanks for being my friend."

And then, the Mockingjay flew.


	4. Chapter 4

**Pardon my extended absence. I don't get to see the movie until May, so I've been hiding in my closet tying knots. JK, I've actually been doing my nursing practicum in the ER and haven't had much down time. Anyway, I took the liberty of describing where I feel that the districts are located in Panem. My apologies to Suzanne Collins, if I completely missed the mark. I will be happy to field any questions, comments, concerns, or complaints. Be forewarned, my map is completely unlike any I have seen yet. **

It was days before my journey finally ended. My food supply was running dangerously low. The initial thrill of flying wore off by about the third day as boredom set in. With only the occasional curious bird for company, I spent the majority of my time sleeping. I was asleep when my basket thumped against the ground, spilling me out into the grass.

I barely had time to look around groggily before the weather balloon collapsed on top of me. I hacked and clawed my way, tooth and nail, through the tough material. After a long and arduous struggle, I conquered the vile beast.

I took the moment to look around. I was in a vast meadow. In one direction I thought that I saw the distant glint of the sea. Was I back in District Four? I turned to my right. The chimneys of a nearby town stood silhouetted against the rising sun. I took off in that direction. Where there were towns, there were people. And where people live, food is.

I stumbled upon a set of railroad tracks and followed them into town. After being nearly run over by a couple horse-drawn wagons, I decided on a safer path, hugging the brick buildings that lined the street.

Without warning, the sky opened up and began dumping buckets of water. Rivers of muddy water flowed through the streets. I took shelter in the nearest doorway, but the wind forced the rain practically sideways, pounding me against the door. Memories of the storm on the boat flooded back, and I instinctively curled up in a tight ball and squeezed my eyes shut against the elements. The moment the door opened to admit three soaking young men, I darted through.

I was in a wide foyer, empty, except for the dripping figures that had just come in. I hadn't been spotted yet, so I took off in the direction opposite of where they were heading. I found myself in a long dark hall flanked by several doors on each side. I tested many of the doors before I found one that gave in to the weight of my body. I walked up and down the rows of beds in the darkened room. Eventually, I was overcome with exhaustion and clambered up onto one of the bed and fell fast asleep.

I woke up to about a dozen girlish faces whispering and giggling above me.

"Here, Hettie," one girl pushed her way through. "I snagged this at supper. He might be hungry." Another girl, who I supposed to be Hettie, took and tore off bits of a dinner roll for me. I bit into the pieces gratefully. I hadn't realized how hungry I really was. I took a better look at the girls around me. They were all young, with short, chin-length hair.

"Hettie, what are you going to do with him?"

"I don't even know if he _wants_ to stay." She responded. The girl seemed nice enough, and I appreciated her concern. I nudged her hand with my nose, partly to let her know that I wanted to stay, but mostly because I wanted more bread. The other girls squealed in delight and I gratefully received the rest of the bread.

When Hettie crawled into bed, I curled up against her, letting her body heat keep me warm in a way that her thin sheets couldn't.

I woke up once during the night. I wasn't sure what woke me, until I realized that Hettie was no longer beside me. A slightly panicked feeling rose in my chest. Then I noticed that the sliver of light softly illuminating the room was coming from the open door. Hettie stood silhouetted in the light, conversing quietly with a much taller figure. A boy. Before I could wonder much longer, she fell into his embrace and ran back to bed. I lay awake pondering what I had seen for a long time until I finally succumbed to sleep.

Morning couldn't have come faster. The sun wasn't even up when the girls filed out for a breakfast of some sort of hot cereal. Then we went to school. Hettie padded her backpack with clothes to make the ride more comfortable for me. It was very cold and windy, and all the girls pulled their sweaters close as they walked together to the school building.

I was fascinated by the lessons we learned in the classroom. I found out that clothes could be made from sheep, plants, grains, worms, and even chemicals. We learned about the particular properties of various types of fabric and why denim was more appropriate for District Twelve than District Four or why most flannel and wool shipments were diverted to District Seven rather than Eleven or Five. My favorite lecture was about the unique attributes of the Peace-minion uniforms. Treated with a super secret formula, the fabric was fireproof and waterproof, yet breatheable and temperature controlled. If the material was torn, the fibers would not adhere to any open wounds. Unfortunately, the chemistry class, where they learned how to make the material, was an advanced level class for the older kids, like Tupper.

Tupper was Hettie's seventeen-year-old brother. The one I saw her with that first night in District Eight. In fact, he came to visit every night, after everyone was supposed to be in bed, for the four years they had lived in the community home. Every lunch at school, Tupper invariably brought up the same topic: District Thirteen.

"I heard that Angora made it to Thirteen," he casually stated one day.

"How can you even know that?"

"I can't," his hands went up in an almost defensive gesture. "It's just what people are saying." They both fell silent. "You know, we're not really that far. Twelve is really the only one closer than us."

"Tupper, please, don't talk like that. What would I do without you?"

"Do you really think I'd leave you behind?" Hettie grew silent at his implication.

"We don't even have proof that Thirteen is alive. Sure there are plenty of theories and stories to back them up, but what if it is just a radioactive wasteland? I don't see how it would be worth the risk." At that argument, Tupper sighed deeply.

"You know this is my last year to apply for tesserae," his voice softened into a tone of concern. "Do you know what it's like in the Home for the kids without tesserae? If we got out, at least we'd be together and could watch out for each other."

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried. I don't know the first thing about surviving in the wild, and what if we got lost and stuck wandering in the wilderness?"

"You're right," he conceded. "I'm being irrational." The next few weeks, Tupper left that topic alone.

The textile mill became my playground. Not the machines, mind you. I learned that quickly enough after one of them gobbled up part of my ear, while I was chasing a mouse. I was never bored. There were always more mice to catch. I soon became a favorite in the mill due to my mouse-catching prowess. The foreman even started lending me out to other departments. I traveled from the weaving room, where Hettie worked, to the spinning room, the sewing room, and the dyeing room.

A few times, I visited Tupper on the loading dock. I saw trains roll into the mill from all over Panem. The train from District Twelve brought loads of coal to fuel the factories and the furnaces for the dye vats. Cotton arrived from District Eleven, wool from Ten, and flax from Nine. Then the trains would take off back to District Six, full of enormous bolts of cloth and some pre-made clothes, where the goods would be sorted into the appropriate trains and distributed to the various districts. With every train leaving the district, Tupper would sigh and his shoulders would slump lower, until the end of the day when he carried me back, with heavy feet, to Hettie's eager arms.

I told you that his silence about Thirteen only lasted for a few weeks.

I was with Hettie, as she was rethreading one of the looms, when Tupper showed up, his eyes bright and his breathing heavy. He pulled her off to the side.

"I need to tell you something."

"Can't it wait 'till tonight? I'm really busy right now."

"No, it's louder here. No one will overhear us. And tonight may be too late."

"Well…?"

"Do you remember what I told you about Angora?"

"Yeah, that there were rumors that she escaped to District Thirteen."

"She did! I saw a letter from her. From Thirteen! She's there. I recognized her signature."

"But, how did she get a letter to here?"

"She sent it back with the guide that helped her get there. His name is Heddle. Rett Heddle. He's made nearly a dozen trips between here and Thirteen."

"So, you want to go." Hettie saw no need in avoiding the topic he was getting at.

"Yeah. He is leaving tonight and told me that he'd be glad to take us along."

"You're sure he's safe?"

"Yeah."

"And you think we can make it?"

"I'm sure we can make it." Tupper's face seemed to light up in anticipation. Hettie grinned at his obvious excitement.

"Okay, when do we leave?" At that, he pulled her into a tight hug, so tight, I actually started to fear for her life.

"Well," he said, finally releasing her. "Jute will come by right before the change-of-shift bell, saying that I got hurt or something, and I need you to come right away. That way you have a legitimate excuse for coming to the docks. I'll take care of covering for me. Heddle will meet us there and we'll hop the train." With that, he planted a kiss on the top of her head. "I'll see you soon." And he was gone.

"What did I just agree to?" Hettie sighed deeply, but I could see the smile flitting across her face.

Sure enough, at about five minutes to nine, Tupper's best friend, Jute, came running up to the weaving room.

"Please, there's been an accident," he announced loudly and breathlessly. "Hettie needs to come quick. Tupper's been hurt real bad." Hettie gathered her things, keeping a look of confusion and concern on her face the whole time. If I hadn't known the scheme, I would have been fooled. She scooped me up and took off after the boy.

We found Tupper and Heddle behind a gigantic bale of cotton at the edge of the yard. Jute was thanked profusely, and introductions were quickly made.

"Here's the plan," Heddle got to the point right away. "The most important thing to do is to put as much distance between us and Eight immediately. We'll get on the train to Six and drop off before we start heading west to the big river that cuts right through Panem. I know it's not the most direct route, but it's safer."

The train was almost ready to leave. The Peace-minion was just about done inspecting and locking the boxcars. The bell rang announcing shift-change and the yard cleared. We waited until the Peace-minion had turned the corner around the building before we raced to the train. We climbed up the ladder and lay flat on the top of the car. The train started moving, slowly picking up speed. Within minutes we were out of the district.

**So, I ended up cutting the chapter at a different spot than originally intended, because I realized that next chapter would be wicked short. By the way, I don't make promises that I don't intend to keep, so if you're trying to follow this story, just subscribe to updates. In the meantime, you should entertain yourself by trying to figure out the sources of all the names I use. **


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